


Somebody you don't have to speak to

by Neigedens



Category: Free!
Genre: Asexual Character, Bondage, Impact Play, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1482757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neigedens/pseuds/Neigedens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His fingers press against Makoto's hairline and then glide back into his hair. Haru clenches his fist and keeps pulling until it hurts, so much Makoto's eyes tear up even more. Haru <i>jerks</i> and Makoto gasps at the pain. He didn't expect it to hurt that much when Haru pulled him by the roots. Haru tugs and it's like a silent reminder Makoto didn't even need to hear: <i>stand up straight</i>. Or kneel, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody you don't have to speak to

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kendra for talking about the concept of this fic with me, and Simon for being an excellent beta. :)

The tiles are cold and wet under Makoto's bare knees, although really, those are the least of his problems. His arms are cuffed behind his back with his elbows bent.

It doesn't hurt if he holds himself perfectly straight, but that's harder to do the longer he kneels there. Every time his posture falters--if his shoulders droop or if he fidgets on his knees--he feels an insistent whack on the front of his thighs or his lower back. It doesn't hurt much, but the sting's becoming irritating enough to make his eyes water.

It isn't much of a strike, anyway. It's only with an old ruler that's been sitting on Haru's desk in his bedroom as long as Makoto can remember. He tries to visualize what the ruler looks like--it's blue, he thinks, with little swirly dolphins painted on the back--not because it's interesting, but because he wants something to take his mind off his discomfort, and to prevent himself from being eaten up with worry.

He's finely tuned to every sound, from the drip of the faucet to the gentle splashes he occasionally hears from the full bathtub in front of him.

His wrist itches. It's just above where the cuffs meet. He moves his fingers and tries to scratch it as unobtrusively as possible.

The ruler hits him again, multiple blows hitting his stomach, just above the waistband of his shorts. It surprises him, especially with how much it hurts. He gasps and nearly doubles over at the unexpected pain. He straightens out as quickly as he can, but not before he feels Haru's hand on him for the first time.

His fingers press against Makoto's hairline and then glide back into his hair. Haru clenches his fist and keeps pulling until it hurts, so much Makoto's eyes tear up even more. Haru _jerks_ and Makoto gasps at the pain. He didn't expect it to hurt that much when Haru pulled him by the roots. Haru tugs and it's like a silent reminder Makoto didn't even need to hear: _stand up straight_. Or kneel, at least.

The worst part is the surprise, rather than the pain itself. Worse than the surprise is the embarrassment, how foolish Makoto feels. He feels like a child playing at something they don't understand. The only thing that'll justify what Makoto is going through, that'll make it worth the shame and strife, is if he gets through it. Even if the pain and strife is entirely self-imposed, _getting through it_ is what will make it all worth it.

Supposedly. That all seems like a lot of silly nonsense at the moment, and he feels the bottom of his stomach drop out in fear. He closes his eyes behind the blindfold and the persistent ache emanating from the roots of his hair finally eases. Haru lets go and withdraws. Makoto thinks he heard Haru slide back under the bathwater with a splash, but then, that could have been anything.

Makoto takes a deep breath. He can relax now, or at least he can compared to before. His arms are still immobilized and stiff, and his back pulses with a bone-deep ache from being in one position so long. His spine itself feels like it's being twisted, like he's being wound tighter and tighter. He's finding out with every second that pain isn't really the issue. Pain is one thing; fear is another. Until now, the two have been completely separate.

Haru isn't doing anything. Makoto swallows, feeling oddly sore about being neglected. How long has he even been kneeling here? It feels like forever, and maybe it has been. It isn't like Haru habitually limits himself on how long he takes a bath. It's likely Makoto still has a long time to go, and nothing to do but focus on the pain in his kneecaps as they press against the floor.

~

It's one month earlier and Haru is wearing one of Rin's bracelets. It's an unobtrusive thing, thick and black but otherwise not flashy. It looks nice on Haru's arm, and suits him.

Makoto tells him that. Haru shrugs. "It wasn't a gift. I needed it."

"Needed it for what?"

Haru stretches the elastic of the wristband to show Makoto. Underneath there's a red mark running all around his wrist, but it's worse on top, where the skin is actually broken and still shiny. It looks like a new injury, which makes sense. Yesterday was New Year's Day, and Rin spent the holiday with Haru overnight.

"What did it?" asks Makoto, more out of curiosity than any prurient interest. It doesn't look like a bite.

"Handcuffs."

Makoto inspects the cut closer, and Haru lets him. "I can disinfect it, if you like."

Haru shrugs.

He sits at the dining room table and lets Makoto get to work, watching carefully as Makoto unpacks the miniature first aid kit.

"Was it an accident?"

"Of course it was."

"Some people are into that," Makoto says mildly, without meaning much by it. "That's the only reason I ask."

"Into what?"

"Oh, you know." Makoto waves his hand. "That sort of thing."

Haru stares, his eyes unmoved and questioning. "What sort of thing?"

"You _know_ ," says Makoto, and Haru still stares at him. Makoto swears that sometimes Haru must be faking dumb. He has to be. Haru's questioning expression drives him to add: "Pain. Sadomasochism or whatever."

"Oh. I didn't think of that."

"Then why did you put on the handcuffs?" asks Makoto, slightly amused. "Did you like it?"

Haru shrugs. "It was OK."

"Why did you do it, then?"

"Because Rin likes it," says Haru simply. "I like it when he likes something."

Makoto nods. It's a much different context than the way he usually applies this observation, but he's always known how selfless Haru is. Haru has a good heart and likes doing things for others, as surprising as that might seem to some people. Even so, Makoto has to add: "You should tell Rin to be more careful."

"I was careful," says Haru. "My hand just slipped. I didn't even notice at the time, to be honest."

It occurs to Makoto how strange it is that this kind of subject matter has integrated itself so easily into his and Haru's everyday conversation. They talk about it dispassionately, the way they talk about schoolwork or the stray cats. Usually Makoto doesn't think much of it. Usually.

He takes the disinfectant and applies it to the open parts of Haru's cut. Haru's always been much less sensitive to pain than Makoto is. If Makoto had been the one with his hand cuffed behind his back or to a bedframe, he would have noticed the skin of his wrist being sliced open right away.

The idea of being in such intense and sudden pain, pain that the handcuffs would prevent you from shrinking away from, sends a spike of real terror, real fear, through him. His wrist practically twinges with sympathy.

He clenches Haru's wrist without even meaning to. "Sorry,” he says hurriedly, surprised at himself. He smooths the longest waterproof bandage he can find over Haru's cut.

Haru doesn't pull his wrist from Makoto’s grasp right away. He's looking at Makoto, and for some reason it's disconcerting. To distract himself, Makoto takes Rin's bracelet and slides it back onto Haru's wrist.

Haru's still studying him as Makoto drops Haru's wrist and looks away, packing the bandages and tube of disinfectant back in the kit.

It feels like such a transparent deflection, but then Makoto should have known better. He knows he can look at Haru and see everything Haru’s not saying; doesn’t it follow that Haru can look at Makoto and see all the worries Makoto isn't expressing?

The rest of the night is subdued, partly because Makoto's parents took his brother and sister to visit his grandmother for the holiday, and partly because of something else. Haru is quiet, even for Haru. They eat together, and the entire time the air feels like it’s filled with things Makoto should be saying but isn’t.

Not that Haru's behavior differs much either way. He's quiet and subdued at supper, but no more so than usual. The biggest change is in Makoto himself. Instead of chatting amiably with (or at) Haru like normal, he says nothing. The words die in his throat and make the silence tense and uncomfortable.

Makoto puts down his bowl and Haru suddenly grabs one of his wrists. Makoto’s hands shake in surprise, and he looks up at Haru in wonder.

Haru's never shied away from touching--Makoto has vivid memories of grabbing Haru's hand during childhood, and Haru squeezing back without hesitation--but at the same time Haru's never been one to spontaneously initiate that kind of contact. Or at least, he hasn't been until recently.

The signs of Haru becoming more demonstrative are small-- they're just little touches on the shoulder or back when he's cooking or walking around Makoto in a hallway, little gestures of affection that pull on something in the center of Makoto's chest. Makoto's never had cause to question that feeling until right this instant.

"I think I made you uncomfortable," Haru says, and Makoto blinks.

"No no," says Makoto. "I just...." He trails off, and feels something uncertain in his stomach, instead of the good feeling he gets when he touches Haru, when Haru touches him.

"Just what?" prompts Haru. His voice is clipped, almost business-like, but he still holds Makoto’s hand. "I must have said something. I don't want to do that again. If I can help it."

Makoto shakes his head. "It wasn't because of anything you said. It's in my own head."

It's not about Rin. It's not about jealousy, or any feeling so easy to categorize. Makoto doesn't have to say that, or react defensively, because Haru already knows. Haru nods. "Your own head is freaking you out."

"Well. Yeah." Makoto smiles. "When you put it like that. But after all, isn't that how everyone's head works? Your own mind is what freaks you out. That's true for anyone. Even you."

"Whatever," says Haru, turning his head to the side. He lets go of Makoto's hand, and for whatever reason that makes Makoto smile even wider.

He decides to throw Haru a bone and spell it out without being asked directly. "I was thinking about what you were saying. About being handcuffed." He shrugs. "It's stupid, but it sounded so nerve-wracking to me. Really scary."

"Then why were you thinking about it?"

"I don't know."

Haru looks honestly curious. "It wasn't nerve-wracking. For me with Rin, anyway. Would it be for you?"

Makoto almost laughs. "What, for me with Rin?"

"No," persists Haru, still utterly serious. "For you and me."

Makoto stops laughing. He'd like to look away, down at the scraps of food in his bowl or his own empty hand. He looks at Haru, feels locked in Haru's gaze, oddly naked. "Well. Maybe? I guess if you were there it would be...different. I mean. I wouldn't be as scared." He doesn't know why he's imagining purposely terrifying himself just so Haru can comfort him, but that's what he's doing.

Makoto shrugs. Haru nods, and then, for no reason Makoto could explain, the two of them fall back into a more normal pattern. They both stand up and go back to the kitchen. Haru talks, Makoto talks more, and they wash the dishes.

No one raises the topic again until the end, when they're done cleaning and Haru is leaning against the other side of the counter in Makoto's kitchen.

"I'll stay here tonight," says Haru.

"Of course."

"Are you tired?"

"A little. Not really. Do you want to watch a movie?"

Haru shakes his head. He looks...not troubled, but much more thoughtful than usual. He's fidgeting with his bracelet in an uncharacteristic nervous tic.

Makoto almost tells him not to pick at the bandage or play with it, but before he can speak, Haru says something that Makoto hasn't heard from his lips in the entire duration of their friendship.

"No. I think we need to have a long talk."

~

The cuffs are padded on the inside, and Haru didn't put them on very tight, but they're digging into Makoto’s skin nonetheless because of how his elbows are bent.

Haru's not really good at being cruel, and even with a blindfold on it's obvious to Makoto that Haru doesn't particularly relish it. He _is_ good at being remote and withdrawn, though, and that's maybe the worst part. Not when Haru hits him or pulls his hair, but the long stretches of inactivity between them, when Makoto feels lost and ignored, like the petulant child again, because Haru's ignoring him and he just wants anything, some kind of touch or any acknowledgement at all, and then Haru _will_ touch him, but it's just to hurt him again, and Makoto's breath will catch in his throat and the whole cycle will start again, working him up until the tears are building up behind the cloth blindfold.

His entire body is tense, expecting a strike at any time, and that just makes it worse, makes his posture falter more and the pain gets worse and worse and the worst part is, Makoto doesn't even want to stop yet. How can he possibly not want to end this, what the hell is _wrong_ with him?

Before he can start crying in earnest, he feels another brush against his hair, not pulling this time. It's soft pressure, gentle, like a cat kneading its owner.

"Makoto," says Haru, speaking for the first time, and Makoto realizes he's waiting for something, some affirmation that it's alright to continue.

"Go ahead," Makoto says, his voice oddly light-sounding, considering the circumstances. "Do it."

He hesitates, and suddenly Makoto thinks Haru will be the one to call this off, and Makoto...Makoto's surprised to realize that he'll be disappointed, if that's the case. He'll be disappointed; it's just the truth.

As he’s thinking, Haru grabs his hair and makes him bend over at the waist. Makoto gasps in surprise, and when he does he inhales some of the bathwater. His face is right over the tub, and it's difficult for him to hold himself out of the water because his arms are still pinioned, and he can't move back or forward because Haru is still pulling at his hair. He squeezes his eyes shut behind his blindfold, which is wet and heavy from the water.

It doesn't even occur to him _not_ to be scared. He's panicked about having his face near the water, despite knowing it's just a bathtub, despite the fact that he's not held down anymore.

He inhales more water at the first blow. It's not the ruler hitting him this time, it's a belt, and he can't believe how much more it hurts. He starts crying because he can't help it, choking and coughing on the water and on his own tears.

He has no idea how long it goes on, but finally everything's still and quiet except for the sounds of his hectic, shaky breaths. They gradually slow as the shock of the pain leaves.

Haru walks away; his footsteps are wet slaps against the tile. Makoto hears the slide of the door opening and shutting, and he shudders before collapsing against the side of the tub. He started crying again at some point, without even realizing it.

~

It was strange to have the house to themselves, but nice. Instead of sprawling out on the floor of his room, they're sitting on the couch in the family room.

Haru scrunches his legs up and sits next to Makoto, wedging his feet under Makoto's legs as he begins the conversation with his face set. "Rin asked me once if you got jealous."

That strikes Makoto as tremendously funny. "Did he. What did you tell him?"

"The truth," says Haru, leaning forward onto his knees. Makoto doesn't know why he expected any other answer, actually. He's hit with an unexpected burst of fondness, and he lifts up his arm without thought to stroke Haru's hair away from his face, feeling its softness between his fingers.

Haru goes on. "Sometimes I think Rin wants to believe the best of people," he begins, "but he thinks the worst of himself, and he thinks everyone else must be the same. He thinks you're jealous because he would be jealous in your place."

Makoto thinks Haru is probably right about that. "He's getting better, though. He doesn't always think the worst of everything anymore. I've noticed that, lately. Haven't you?"

Haru puts a hand over Makoto's, resting his head against Makoto's palm as if thinking. "Maybe. I'm not sure."

Makoto thinks that this is true. He's noticed that in both of them; their personalities have shifted almost imperceptibly, in that way that can happen when two people grow closer. They change in minute ways that mirror the other person. Makoto's noticed it; Rin is softer, more pliant and less impatient in general, and Haru is more impulsive. He reaches out, and shows affection in strange and direct ways.

It's easy to observe other people's changes, but Makoto sometimes wonders if he himself has changed and he just doesn't realize it. Maybe one day he'll see it, and it will all become clear the way all the leaves on the trees do when he puts on his glasses.

"Are you OK?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" asks Makoto, breaking out of his thoughts.

"Earlier. You seemed uncomfortable. Is it because you're interested, or embarrassed?"

"Interested?"

"In bondage."

He blushes a little. "Well, who wouldn't be embarrassed, when you put it like that?"

Haru tilts his head to the side and looks at Makoto. "You're really good at avoiding answering the question, do you realize that?"

"Coming from you, that's hilarious," says Makoto, laughing. If he had been embarrassed or nervous before, now he's mostly just curious to see where Haru's going with this. "I don't know how to answer it? I mean. I've never really thought about it. Why? Are you offering?"

"Of course," says Haru, so seriously and so honestly that Makoto laughs again. He just can't help it. He's known Haru long enough that nothing Haru does really throws him, but sometimes...

"I was serious," says Haru, miffed.

"I know you were," says Makoto. "Look, the next time I want someone to handcuff me and knock me around, I'll be sure to give you a call. Alright?"

Haru rolls his eyes but nods, and then he falls back against the arm of the sofa with his feet still pressed against Makoto's legs. Makoto turns on the TV and they spend the rest of the evening watching one of those deep-sea diving documentaries, and even that can't perforate the light feeling of happiness surrounding both of them.

~

He's curled up by the tub, with his knees pulled up to his chest. The marks on his back are more painful when he does that, and his arms ache.

It doesn't feel _good_ , and he would never think to describe it that way. He couldn't imagine enjoying this, much less getting some sort of sexual thrill out of it.

But he doesn't regret it, even now, with his arms and legs and entire body cramping up. He keeps himself clenched in a fetal position, even though he can't stop the shaking no matter how hard he tries.

He's so preoccupied with holding himself together that he doesn't hear the door slide open again, and doesn't realize that Haru is touching him until he feels the cuffs loosen. Haru's hand squeezes him lightly on the shoulder and Makoto jolts. His shoulder and elbow joints cramp so much he gasps with pain again.

Haru's soft hands are on his face, helping him sit up, and they feel cool against the hot tears still wet on his cheeks. Haru removes the blindfold, and Makoto blinks in the sudden light.

The first thing he sees is Haru's face, looking concerned and peering at him as if he just saved Makoto from drowning. Makoto opens his mouth at the same time Haru opens his, but before either of them can say anything he's burying his face in Haru's shoulder because the sudden light, the sudden vision of Haru's face, is too much. His eyes are wet again, he's shaking, and he realizes a second later he's full-on sobbing, but for the first time in his life he doesn't care at all.

Haru stays still, holds his hand against Makoto's hair and doesn't say anything for a while. He lets Makoto tire himself out before speaking. "Can you get in the water?" he asks quietly, and Makoto nods. He barely even opens his eyes as Haru grabs his hand and they stand up, stepping into the tub. Makoto goes to sit on one side, but Haru pulls him away. "It'll hurt your back. Lay this way instead." Haru sits against one end of the tub and pulls so Makoto can lay down on top of him with his back facing up.

It's a good idea, but the tub's far too small for Makoto to stretch out all the way. Instead, he rolls over and nestles against Haru's side.

"Your back--"

"It's alright," says Makoto, speaking for the first time. His voice has that raw, raspy edge you get when you've been crying, but the cool surface of the tub actually feels good against the raw skin on his back.

Haru grabs his hand again and they lie there for a bit.

The tub is too small to be comfortable for two adult-sized people, no matter how much Haru would like to believe otherwise, but Makoto stays still anyway. He enjoys the feeling until his arm starts cramping up. Normally he would take the path of least resistance, stay still until the arm falls asleep, but maybe the prolonged bout of sobbing made him more impulsive. He rolls over to lay on top of Haru, resting his chin on Haru's sternum.

Haru raises an eyebrow at him.

"Are you alright?" Makoto asks.

"That's my line," says Haru. He pushes Makoto's bangs out of his eyes, wetting the hair with his hands and slicking it back.

"I feel good," he tells Haru, because there's the faintest suggestion of a line between Haru's eyes, as if he were worried or guilty. "Really good."

Haru's wet thumbs run over Makoto's cheeks, cleaning off the dried tear tracks. Water from his hair drips down as Makoto closes his eyes and feels Haru wipe his face clean.

He could fall asleep here, despite everything. He doesn't want to, because he thinks Haru's still tense, still a little worried, and he couldn't bear to think that Haru feels guilty for doing what Makoto asked, but--

"Makoto."

He opens his eyes. "Hmm?"

"I don't regret doing this," he says.

"Oh. Well, good."

"I'd do it again if you asked me to. It wouldn't bother me at all."

Makoto smiles. Haru's desire to be more demonstrative, if that's what it is, and more explicit, which this definitely is, is a recent development and tends to lead to these occasional rather brusque pronouncements. "OK," he says, closing his eyes again. As brusque as it is, it's nice reassurance.

Even though it's cramped and his muscles are twinging more by the minute, he stays there and lets the silence wash over them like water.

"Aren't you going to wake me up," says Makoto, "so I don't fall asleep on you?"

"You can fall asleep on me."

He stands up anyway, unfolding himself slowly and bracing against the sides of the tub. "I shouldn't, though. I'll regret it later, more than everything else." Once he's finally upright and sort of steady, holds out a hand to Haru and pulls him up. Before they step out of the tub, Makoto catches Haru by the shoulders and pulls him into a hug. It's a nicer hug, this time, not marred by cramps or desperate bouts of crying.

"Thank you."

Haru moves his arms awkwardly; Makoto’s head is out of reach, and Haru doesn't want to touch his back, which is still tender. Haru mutters something and Makoto lets go. He steps out of the tub with a lightness in his chest.

He feels it despite dealing with the stinging pain of his back over the next few days. He couldn't explain it to Haru or anyone else if he tried, but everything feels light, locked in sharp, clear focus like never before.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me on tumblr at [koumatora](http://koumatora.tumblr.com/) (my personal blog) and at [pirateswam](http://pirateswam.tumblr.com/), which is a blog for the swimming anime pirate AU I'm writing with a friend. Please check both of these out if you are cool and like good times, which I'm almost positive you are and you do.


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